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Crumpets and Bollocks: I'm trying to Quit Smoking

I'm trying to Quit Smoking

If you told me I would die tomorrow if I have another cigarette, I could stare directly at my children and light a cigarette. I still fear death. I don't want to die. But you can't scare away addiction. It's fearless, even if you aren't.

I want to quit smoking. I don't like my children around it. Some suggest it's a form of child abuse now a days, like it's only a matter of time before Child Protection Services adds that to their long list of abuse and neglect (of course, it's abuse if you don't give your kid amphetamines if that's what he is prescribed). I don't like a lot of people to know I smoke. I hide it on Facebook with most of those people I never actually see. I don't like the smell of smoke. Reread that. A smoker doesn't like the smell of smoke. I don't like the graveyard of cigarettes in the ashtray, every ash haunting my things constantly needing dusted off. Too much foreshadowing? Maybe? I watched my father die of cancer. His last wish was for me to quit smoking. I mean, why haven't I already?

There's plenty more reasons I'd want to quit, but I still don't actually want to quit. As I type this right now, I'm thinking about my next cigarette. I'm telling myself I can't have one until I finish writing this, so you might get an unedited piece of shit article because I decided a cigarette was more important than this blog for one moment.

I've been analyzing the why's I smoke. I do the thing most smokers do. I smoke to wake up and to go to sleep. Because I'm hungry and because I'm full. Because I'm bored, because I'm busy. Because I live. Because I might die. Every thing. EVERY. FUCKING. THING. I smoke while I shit, and I smoke the victory cigarette when I'm done. It's that bad.

But is that WHY I really smoke? No. I think I do it to numb the pain of living. Nothing like a little bit of death to help you escape life. That's exactly why I smoke.

The perpetual cycle is this... I don't think I can quit while my life is all messed up. It is my coping mechanism, and while life is crazy, while my house is unorganized, my bills not in order, my kids not on schedule, while I'm like that, I can't add quitting. I'll be back at the funny farm for emotional overload. The cigarette is the reason why I can look at my house and not cry about it. BUT, I don't think I will fix my life while I'm smoking because the cigarette makes it possible for me to look at my house and not cry about it. I don't have the emotional motivation. I don't want too much emotion here, just enough. But I don't get to make that call about how much emotion I get to feel, or do I?

Anyway, this is my quitting smoking blog post. I need a plan, a real one. People quit every day, but there's a reason a lot of people don't quit. Many of them want to. Many try. There's a reason they fail. There's a reason I failed at quitting in the past. I don't think it's will power. I think it's psychological. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm just a big fucking baby in mamby pamby waaah I want my cigarette land. But I think I'm the person who can't possibly quit, and I think I'm going to die much sooner than I want to if I don't. So I have to explore this, and I'm sharing it with you guys. Addiction is a bitch. I'd say one that needs to be smacked into submission, but I scare people off with that. I don't know why. If you are a prostitute, I don't mean to bring up old tears, tell your pimp to go suck himself.

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Crumpets and Bollocks: I'm trying to Quit Smoking

Saturday, November 23, 2013

I'm trying to Quit Smoking

If you told me I would die tomorrow if I have another cigarette, I could stare directly at my children and light a cigarette. I still fear death. I don't want to die. But you can't scare away addiction. It's fearless, even if you aren't.

I want to quit smoking. I don't like my children around it. Some suggest it's a form of child abuse now a days, like it's only a matter of time before Child Protection Services adds that to their long list of abuse and neglect (of course, it's abuse if you don't give your kid amphetamines if that's what he is prescribed). I don't like a lot of people to know I smoke. I hide it on Facebook with most of those people I never actually see. I don't like the smell of smoke. Reread that. A smoker doesn't like the smell of smoke. I don't like the graveyard of cigarettes in the ashtray, every ash haunting my things constantly needing dusted off. Too much foreshadowing? Maybe? I watched my father die of cancer. His last wish was for me to quit smoking. I mean, why haven't I already?

There's plenty more reasons I'd want to quit, but I still don't actually want to quit. As I type this right now, I'm thinking about my next cigarette. I'm telling myself I can't have one until I finish writing this, so you might get an unedited piece of shit article because I decided a cigarette was more important than this blog for one moment.

I've been analyzing the why's I smoke. I do the thing most smokers do. I smoke to wake up and to go to sleep. Because I'm hungry and because I'm full. Because I'm bored, because I'm busy. Because I live. Because I might die. Every thing. EVERY. FUCKING. THING. I smoke while I shit, and I smoke the victory cigarette when I'm done. It's that bad.

But is that WHY I really smoke? No. I think I do it to numb the pain of living. Nothing like a little bit of death to help you escape life. That's exactly why I smoke.

The perpetual cycle is this... I don't think I can quit while my life is all messed up. It is my coping mechanism, and while life is crazy, while my house is unorganized, my bills not in order, my kids not on schedule, while I'm like that, I can't add quitting. I'll be back at the funny farm for emotional overload. The cigarette is the reason why I can look at my house and not cry about it. BUT, I don't think I will fix my life while I'm smoking because the cigarette makes it possible for me to look at my house and not cry about it. I don't have the emotional motivation. I don't want too much emotion here, just enough. But I don't get to make that call about how much emotion I get to feel, or do I?

Anyway, this is my quitting smoking blog post. I need a plan, a real one. People quit every day, but there's a reason a lot of people don't quit. Many of them want to. Many try. There's a reason they fail. There's a reason I failed at quitting in the past. I don't think it's will power. I think it's psychological. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm just a big fucking baby in mamby pamby waaah I want my cigarette land. But I think I'm the person who can't possibly quit, and I think I'm going to die much sooner than I want to if I don't. So I have to explore this, and I'm sharing it with you guys. Addiction is a bitch. I'd say one that needs to be smacked into submission, but I scare people off with that. I don't know why. If you are a prostitute, I don't mean to bring up old tears, tell your pimp to go suck himself.

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